The hunt for horcruxes
by lanadelrieth
Summary: Harry, Ron and Hermione come back from Malfoy Manor. The boys try to calm the shattered girl, while Dobby faces his last minutes. Luna comes to the rescue. How are they going to keep fighting if their hearts are broken and their hopes are lost? Primarily Romione.
1. Dobby death

**Disclaimer: I do _NOT_ own Harry Potter. Apparently some queen currently living in Scotland named J.K. Rowling does.  
_PLEASE_ if you spot a mistake (regarding story accuracy, grammar, spelling, punctuation, etc),_ LET ME KNOW!_ I really want to improve my writing and I can't do it without your help!  
This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction, hope you enjoy!**

* * *

They Apparated into the beautiful, lonely beach next to Shell Cottage. Ron's eyes flew open, desperately trying to focus as he couldn't see anything. "RON! HERMIONE! LUNA! WE'RE SAFE! WE REALLY ARE!" He heard Harry yelling in the distance. After what felt like an eternity, he recovered from the Apparation and started to identify the bodies that were sprawled around him. As soon as he saw the _one_ body that he had been trying frantically to protect over the last few hours, with clearly no success, his heart stopped dead.

He was looking at an unconscious Hermione, lying in the sand and convulsing from the _cold_would've been his first thought if the memory of her screams hadn't been spreading through his mind like painful flashes.

Ron stood up, trembling in fear, and started sprinting in her direction. She looked so fragile, so _broken._He held her in a tight embrace as if she were a defenseless child. Tears started to emerge from his eyes. "Hermione. Hermione._Please._"

"Ron! Ron! Are you-" Harry's shout cut off as his eyes spotted Hermione's wrecked form. He kneeled down beside him, looking utterly confused on what to do. "Hermione. Stop. It's all right. It really is. Please Hermione, you've been so strong." As he had just started to get worried, a rasping cry came from behind him: "_Harry Potter."_

"Dob-? DOBBY!" Harry ran and fell to the side of a mortally wounded, bleeding house-elf. The small being wasn't like any other house-elf, not really; he had been the one to save his friends' lives, more than _once.  
_  
He carefully extracted the dagger embedded in Dobby's stomach, which was causing his torturous pain and dropped it to the sand. Ron kept his eyes on Hermione, as her body was gradually slowing its crazed movements. "That's it 'Mione, you're safe now. You're at Shell Cottage. You're safe. I promise," He rocked her slowly, attempting to keep her conscious as his attention went to Harry.

Harry held Dobby in his arms while the elf's breath came slower with every second. "Dobby. _No._ Please. I told you not to try to save my life again. I warned you. I never wanted you to- Dobby… _thank you_. I will never, _never_forget what you did for me, for us." Sobs cracked Harry's voice, making it impossible for him to speak. Dobby's smile brightened his entire little face, as his eyes blinked for the last time before whispering:

"Such a beautiful place, to be with _friends."___

Harry looked at him and gave him a parting smile. "_See you_, my friend." The elf's last breath left his body, and sobs wracked Harry's body.

Luna approached cautiously and kneeled next to him. "Maybe we should close his eyes," she said with a kind and warm smile of sympathy that instantly calmed the black-haired boy, while she gently slid them down. "There. Now he could be sleeping." The boy looked at her and amazingly enough, he found some hope in her bright blue eyes. Luna had always given him hope at the worst of times and that was exactly why she was still there with them: they needed _her_ as much as she needed _them_.

Ron looked down again at Hermione. She had stopped convulsing and had opened her eyes to see him. She didn't say anything, just stared at him while tears streamed down her cheeks. He didn't say anything either, only held her tighter against him, rocking her slowly.

"I want to bury him," muttered a watery-eyed Harry. "properly. The muggle way."

Ron nodded. And so did Hermione.


	2. Dobby's burial

**Disclaimer:**** I do ****_NOT_**** own Harry Potter or the lyrics below. HP belongs to the genius JK Rowling, whom I adore, and 'Marchin On' belongs to One Republic.**

**_PLEASE_**** if you spot a mistake, ****_LET ME KNOW!_**** Your feedback is ****_always_**** appreciated!**

**Thank you for the views! I have ****_lots_**** of chapters already written, they only need to be edited! So ****_please_**** stay tuned!**

* * *

" _Somehow__  
__we keep_  
_marching on "_

Ron watched as Hermione tried unsuccessfully to get out of her bed, even though she had just been laid there about two minutes ago.

"Ron… I… Dobby… Be… There…" said the mumbling girl, as she ineffectively tried once again to work her way out of the sheets, without knowing that they had securely been set so she couldn't do it on her own.

"Hermione, it's alright. Harry and I will do it. Just please stay here and get some rest. I'm begging you," He looked at her with pleading eyes. At last she let go of his hand, which she had been tightly holding –rather painfully squishing- the whole time since they arrived to the house. "Tell… him… Dobby… thank… you." Ron smiled as his eyes glowed; she wasstill _the warm hearted_Hermione after all_,_even though she had been torn to pieces. He lightly shook his head in displeasure at this last aching thought. "Will do," He said simply before closing the door.

Ron met Harry, Luna and Bill atop the rustic structure's nearest hill. They dug a hole at the top and Harry gently placed the elf, wrapped in a white sheet Fleur had provided them.

"This is a nice place," Ron told Harry calmly. "The place Dobby would've liked to be-" he paused for a second and re-thought his phrase. "A great place for Dobby to be _free_ and… you know, all that."

" I thought so too," said Harry. He remained silent for a few seconds before continuing. "It just makes me angry, you know? I've thought about it a thousand times. I can't let go of it. I wish I could've done something. _Anything._"

Ron sat next to his friend and watched the morning sun slowly rise in the sky. "I know." He murmured. And he did know.

They just sat there for a while, deciding what to do next and where to go. Since Ron's return, things had been better. Hermione had not been crying all night long –without wanting Harry to notice of course, failing at this attempt- yet she was crankier and more irritated than ever, not to him, _luckily,_thought Harry; she could be quite scary when she wanted to be.

Bill soon left them to bear their grief on their own, although Luna stayed with them, studying the engraving on Dobby's tomb:

_Here lies Dobby,__  
__the free elf._

"It's quite funny, isn't it?" she said, opening her eyes widely.

"What is?" Ron asked, confused and a bit exasperated as well.

"This." She gestured with her hands and pointed to the grave, Shell Cottage and themselves.

"You find _this_ funny? Is this a joke to yo-"

"When I was captured by the Death Eaters," she interrupted Ron serenely "I never expected to come out of that place, I had accepted my death since the moment I stepped into the Mansion."

Ron and Harry glanced at each other discretely.

"It's very funny indeed, how life can surprise you." She stared at the waves coming in and out from the shore before giving the boys a smile. Harry returned it with one of his own. He understood her completely and clearly felt the same way, but Ron just didn't. He simply looked at the pair of them with a puzzled expression, still not entirely appreciating her point of view. To him, life hadn't exactly given him pleasant surprises, as through the years; things had gone from bad to worse. At last he gave up on his foolish irritation and proceeded to stare at the ground instead, drawing circles in the sand with a small piece of driftwood.

Luna stood up calmly. "I'm going down. Don't want the nargles to steal my sleep too, they've had enough with my things already." Harry grinned.

"Wait up Luna, I should go back too, got to check on some… _things_before going to bed," he said suspiciously as he started to follow the blonde girl, addressing Ron, "Coming?"

"In a minute," he told Harry, as the last one turned back, nodded and continued going downhill.

He waited until he was alone. "D- Dobby… err, just one last thing and I promise we'll leave you… alone," he smiled at the memory of Hermione, of her voice, telling him what to say... but soon his features darkened, when he remembered the state she was currently in. He leaned closer to the stone and touched it lightly with his right hand. "Hermione says thank you, and _I_ also thank you, for saving her."

* * *

**A/N: Writing for Luna wasn't easy, clearly she didn't sound as smooth and wise as I wanted her to be. She is definitely one of my favourite characters, so I tried to give her as much justice as my writing skills could give her. **  
**_If that was enough._**


	3. Hermione's back

**A/N: sorry for the _extreme _delay on this new chapter. ;(. School's a lil b*tch right now, but I'm hanging there.  
Still in the need for a beta reader, so if you're interested, shoot me a pm!  
_Please_ if you liked this, write a review! It doesn't matter if it is 3 words, I'm flexible ;).  
Thank you for your views, you're awesomesauce. Truly.  
EDIT:  Harry and Ron's last fight is mentioned here, if you'd like to see the whole back-up story, go check out "_Ron leaves". _Just if you want to, no pressure.  
**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter.**

* * *

_"I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones__  
__Enough to make my systems blow"_

Hermione was sitting on the old couch situated in the middle of the little living room of Shell Cottage. A fuzzy blanket covered her shoulders while a cup of cold tea was nestled between her hands.

She looked terrible, and nobody seemed to avoid letting her know that from the moment they saw her, making it evident by the way everybody in Shell Cottage looked at her with faces full of fright and pity. This clearly bothered her. Hermione couldn't care less about her look and she wouldn't start now, but it definitely didn't make her feel any better knowing everybody thought she needed special treatment, as much as she, in fact, needed it.

Her mind was obviously somewhere else: she was thinking about Godric Gryffindor's sword and its whereabouts. _C'mon Hermione,_think. _This is the moment when you _really _need to think._She was also looking back on the events that had taken place a few nights ago in Malfoy's Manor. She noticeably flinched at the mental image of… _that_woman, that _monster._Her thoughts also went to Ron and how he had valiantly rescued her from her evil hands; how he had protected and sheltered her throughout these dark, hard days, how he had held her hands in his, how his snores had kept her nightmares in a much more controlled state, how he had stayed all night long by her side -well, more specifically, by the flank of the bed, supporting his back with the bedside table.

The first night they spent there, she had a breakdown that left her on the floor, violently hitting Ron when falling on him; all while convulsing, as the constant pain she had received left nerve consequences to her body. Ron held her firmly, a terrified look on his face, and rocked her eventually bringing her back to consciousness. She then again just looked at him, hoping to find in his eyes some explanation to what was happening and whether if it was ever going to stop. He simply stared back at her, with intensely worried eyes, which didn't have, of course, an answer. After a while she closed her eyes, rested her head on his chest and fell asleep right there in his arms.  
The nightmares were still undoubtedly there, but they were more distant; that didn't stop her from waking up screaming "_I don't know! Please! Stop!"_while crying uncontrollably. She knew it clearly scared him how frequent this happened, yet he never abandoned her side. He was always there, holding her hand and shyly stroking her hair, murmuring _"__Shh, 'Mione, it's all a bad dream. You're safe now."_That soothed her agony, but normally she'd keep weeping until she would eventually fall back to sleep, gripping his hand tightly.  
Mornings were much calmer. He would bring them breakfast and sit on the corner of the bed with her until the last bite went down her throat. She usually slept a bit before lunch, but only if Ron was there.

Harry appeared in the room smoothly, without making a sound.  
"Hello. How are you feeling?" he said resting his hand lightly on her shoulder with a face that, without a doubt, showed that he was feeling guilty for interrupting her, but Hermione knew this was coming. After all, they had stayed there long enough and couldn't really afford to stick around for much longer. She felt as guilty for delaying their quest with her slow recovery as he was for not giving her more time.

"Hi Harry, I'm feeling better, thanks," She said in such a low voice that even being inches away from her, he had trouble hearing it.

He studied her for a few seconds before his lips parted, but she spoke first.

"I know that you've waited for me to heal and I greatly appreciate it, but please, _you,_ above all people, don't feel bad for me. I've had enough pity for a lifetime."

And in that moment, Hermione understood how Harry must've felt all those years at Hogwarts, when something terrible happened to him, literally _every_single one of them, having to bear everybody's mercy. She knew that he was thinking exactly the same thing, since a grin was beginning to form on his face.

"Well then, if that's the case, I was thinking… maybe we should talk to Griphook, you know? It seems like the smartest thing to do, really. Because, if he does know where the sword is, then—" he was interrupted by his redheaded friend.

"What do you think you're doing?" he said coldly, staring intensely into the green pair of eyes in front of him.

"Ron, I was just—"

"She's not strong enough!" he was close from screaming. His voice was filled with anger, but not hate or disgust, like the last time they fought. "Don't you get it? She's weak! She can't think properly! Honestly, mate, if you could only think about anyone but yourself—"

This time it was Hermione who interrupted.

"Please," Her voice nearly broke from fatigue, making it almost impossible for the boys to hear her "Please, don't fight." Her face was obviously showing ache. After so much yelling, she had come to the realization that she never wanted anyone to do it ever again.

Ron looked at her with regretful eyes. He didn't want her to be upset once again, and definitely not for defending her, so he decided it was best to follow her wishes. He reluctantly sat on her right side, wrapping his arm protectively around her shoulders. He didn't face either of his friends; he simply stared at the horizon.  
Harry gazed towards Hermione and a smirk was once again on his face, but now for a very different reason.

She smiled brightly at her long-nosed _friend,_who was still facing away from her, then to Harry, who made her blush a little, and felt extremely lucky to have them both.

"So, Harry. Griphook, huh? Sounds like a plan to me. But we can't take the matter lightly; we've made that mistake already, lots of times, actually. We are going to have to…"

As she continued planning, Harry chuckled silently. Hermione was back.

* * *

**A/N: I have a wonderful beta named Lorakeet (Nerd-Herd13)! Go check her out if you have time ;)**


	4. The Plan

**Disclaimer: Do NOT own Hp.**

* * *

"I've still got a bit of Polyjuice potion left, you know."

"You do?"

"Yes. Although there are not many people we can turn into to be honest. So I don't know how much help that is going to be..." Hermione seemed lost in her thoughts, looking sickened and disturbed.

"There's got to be someone!" said Ron optimistically, innocently ignoring Hermione's eerie reaction. "Anyone would do; anyone but us, really."

Silence fell amongst the trio.

Naturally, the two pair of eyes looked at the girl, internally hoping that she'd visualize a thoughtful plan on how to get strands of hair from _random_ people, like they had done at the Ministry some months ago.

She had something else in mind.

"Well… there is someone." She looked as if she were about to vomit.

"Who?" asked Ron impatiently.

Harry, unlike him, had a vague idea of where this was leading to, as he used to connect the dots much faster than his friend; so he glanced at Hermione with preoccupation and concern while she tried to exteriorize her thoughts to the boys.

"Yesterday I…" she paused for a second to get herself together. "I- I found my coat. Fleur must've hid it so I wouldn't find it, so it wouldn't remind of anything from that night, but, well, I did. The thing is… it was the same coat I was wearing when… she—Bellatrix—"

"Ok you found your coat," Ron interrupted her so she wouldn't have to say the word she now feared even more than in the past "What about it?"

It was the first time they had talked about it, it was also the first time _she_ had spoken about it. But it was definitely not the first time they had acknowledged how strong Hermione was. The boys looked at their friend with much more pride than pity; with much more admiration than compassion. You just couldn't underestimate Hermione Granger. Not for a single second.

"Well," she continued, giving Ron a grateful smile, talking in such a quiet voice the boys had trouble hearing her, adding to that the fact that she was fighting off tears, which only increased those difficulties. "There was a strand, _her _strand of hair…"

"How do you know it's hers?" interrupted Harry.

"I just… know. Believe me, I'm one hundred percent sure, otherwise I wouldn't be suggesting this. I was the one who got transformed into a cat in our second year Harry, remember? I think I've learnt my lesson. Anyways, that way we could get into her vault with a much easier plan you see, we would just have to arrange-"

"Are you sure about this?" asked Ron, a bit more concerned on the psychological effects of becoming the person that caused you so much pain rather than focusing on the practical benefits of the plan.

"There's no other way, or at least not one that I can think of."

Ron looked apprehensive, but nodded in acceptance.

"But how are _we _going to get in then?" Harry asked.

"I had thought about that too, I guess I could transfigure some aspects of Ron's appearance, to the point where he isn't recognizable anymore, while you and Griphook can go under the Invisibility Cloak-"

"So you're taking the Goblin with you?" interrupted Bill unexpectedly.

The trio looked at each other discretely.

"Oh don't mind me; I was just going to my kitchen, because well, this is _my _house you're in."

Apparently discreteness wasn't their thing.

"Bill," Ron started, this time connecting the dots much quicker than normally and recognizing his brother's sarcastic tone. He knew his brother was somewhat upset with their presence, but he also knew that Bill _was not_ going to be the one delaying them on their quest. Their stay in Shell Cottage had been crucial, and even though he was enormously grateful to him, he needed to understand that they weren't there just because, they were staying for a reason. Sadly, he couldn't know it.

"Look, we didn't have anywhere else to go… And I thought that… I thought that you wouldn't be bothered, dammit! I'm your brother, after all!"  
"Mm, so you thought I wouldn't mind having an injured goblin and an old man in his deathbed? You know, besides 3 teenagers who think they have all the answers and that won't tell me why they haven't been at school for months."

"This is not just an _old man,_" Harry was getting angrier with every word as he spoke. _Is he really complaining?_ Harry thought. _After all we've gone through does he really think this is something worthy of protest? _"This is _Mr. Ollivander._ This is the man that gave you your wand, the man that provided you with your best and only source of magic, but most importantly, of safety." He paused for a second to regain his breath, as because of his exasperation he'd forgotten to breathe. "We're _very _sorry that we didn't let you know with twenty four hours of anticipation that we would be requiring your help, but quite honestly, we're leaving soon enough, as you've recently overheard, so you will not have to worry about us for much longer. About him though, I do ask you to take care of, as you've precisely said, he is closer to death than any of us right now, so we better give him a good one."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other speechless. Even though Harry's emotional explosions often included sarcastic responses and thoughtful quick remarks, they were always surprised to see him react this way. It seemed so non-Harry, but also very Harry-like at the same time, since in the course of the last few years this tendency really developed; but before that, there was only submissive Harry, and so it was a bit strange.

Bill was speechless too, it was clear that he didn't know sassy Harry at all.

His expression changed completely, from irritation to dullness. "What… What do I tell Mum and Dad Ron?" he looked at his brother, who was staring at him with questionable, doubtful eyes. "What do I say if they ask about you? Do I tell them you were here or—"

"No! Of course not! You can't do that Bill, if you do, you'll ruin everything! Everything we've worked so hard into getting!"

"Maybe that's not such a bad idea Ron," Hermione reasoned "It would be better if they knew you were fine, that way they would be less concerned about you." She rubbed his arm, easing his sudden agitation. "Although if you do tell them, Bill," she now addressed the older Weasley with a much less delicate tone "You can't tell them anything that you've heard or seen, you can't tell them where we're heading or where we came from—"

"Well that will be rather easy, since you never told me, remember?" he snapped.

"Let her finish." Ron intervened.

"You have to promise, or else I'll have to erase some memories off your brain. And, mind you, I excel at that task."

Silence invaded the room once more.

"You can't be serious." Said Bill after releasing a sarcastic chuckle.

"Does it seem like I'm joking, Bill?" Hermione said sharply.

"Fine, whatever, I'm done with you three. You can do whatever the hell you want, just get the _fuck _out of my house."

"Thank you for your politeness, Bill; always appreciated." Harry intervened.

"Oh and please take _Loony _with you, will you?"

"Her name's Luna," Harry's fists were getting tighter as Bill kept speaking. "And she won't be coming with us; but don't worry, you won't have to  
_bear_ her much longer. She's also leaving here, not much of a surprise, really."

"Yeah yeah, goodbye," he said as he started to leave the room, but suddenly turned back to face the trio one last time before abruptly changing his expression, sighing heavily, looking almost in awe: "Good luck." He merely said, and then he went upstairs.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, I took MAJOR liberties here. I wrote Bill as a douche bag and Harry as a sass queen. So there you have it, love it or hate it.**


End file.
